Punching Bag
by TheNobodyofaSOLDIER
Summary: [Levi x ADHD!Reader]


You were okay. You just needed to stay calm and focused. All you were doing was studying for a test, right? With a deep inhale, you returned to your science book, rapping you pen against the page and bouncing your foot against the railing of your desk. Every ten seconds, you changed your seat position and rubbed your hair before you finally returned to the black inscriptions on the page. You had been studying for a good three hours now, surprisingly retaining a good bit of information. Once you were finished, you could get to work, reorganizing your room.

Damn, you were such a slob during finals week, and it drove your fiance, Levi, absolutely batshit crazy. But, you always kept your doors shut, preventing him from seeing your hellhole of a room. Oh, the fights you guys could initiate over this. Being the neat freak he was, the thought of simply one room being in the slightest mess bothered him to no end.

But, it wasn't that you meant to: you were just so easily distractible. In the midst of your cleaning, you would always put something down, your mind lost in another train wreck of thought, and wander away without finishing the task at hand. After repeating this spontaneous "ritual" a thousand times over, your room resembled the carnage of a hurricane. Nearly every time, Levi wandered in, cussed you out for it, and slammed the door behind him, isolating you in your chaotic world. Thankfully, being the inner softie that he was, he always returned, head hanging low with an awkwardly worded apology and a container of your favorite ice cream as a peace offering. He always looked so damn cute, you could never say no.

This summed up your routine in college. You absolutely detested school for this very reason: your mind worked far too fast. You weren't by any means stupid: you just learned differently from others. This was why you chose Kinesiology as your major. Levi, being a fitness instructor, helped you realize that you were never meant for a desk job, involving long hours in a dully lit office, in front of a computer screen surrounded by stacks of paper. No, you needed movement. Though you were perfectly happy with this decision and looking forward to your future, the process itself was just grueling.

With a loud groan, you slammed your pen into the book after reading the same shitty sentence a million times over. Three hours of nothing but curving your back and your neck and reading was draining. You rose from your spot, stretched your stiff limbs and made your way through the madness that was your room. In the farthest corner from your desk, a special present from Levi for moments just like this, when you couldn't stand your stupid brain anymore, hung on a long, strong pole waiting for your arrival; a large, black punching bag. After your first outburst from mental overstimulation, he purchased it for you, telling you to unleash your whatever adrenaline built up in your system. Your sessions with the stuffed piece of leather rivaled even your wild nights with your fiance.

Reeling back your fist, you jabbed it unleashing every bit of energy you possessed. That one hit triggered a series of punches, elbow strikes, palm strikes and kicks, everything you could remember from the self defense class you signed up for. In that moment, your mind erased all thoughts of life, the future and your studying. It simply honed in on that punching bag and its imminent elimination. Damn, it felt amazing: your pulse was racing. The energy ran cool and electrifying through your veins. Soon, you were grunting and growling at the thing like a character out of "Street Fighter" or "Mortal Kombat." After a few moments of composing yourself, you reenergized yourself once more for another round.

A good thirty minutes passed before you were on the floor, sweating and panting but a lot more relaxed. After wiping your forehead with your sleeve, the creaking of your door hinges caught your attention.

"Tch, this place still looks like a disaster sight," came a familiar voice.

You scoffed. "Levi, I don't have time for thi-" you were instantly silence when a bar of chocolate was shoved into your mouth.

"Shut up and eat," he lightly touched your shoulder. "You've been stick in here in this shit hole all day."

Your eyes twinkled as you inhaled the Snickers bar then turned to face his cold eyes.

"Fank you," you said, mouthful of that tasty goodness.

His nose wrinkled in disgust. "Damn, woman, I don't wanna that."

"Sorry."

For a moment, he watched you scarf away your food. Every five seconds, your eyes would dart towards the tiniest sound, or your head would turn at anything the least bit distracting. Your body gently sway back and forth,weight shifting from foot to foot. During the early parts of your relationship, he tried to break you of these little habits. He assumed they were your little ways of expressing your nervousness. But, no, they were just habits; nothing more, nothing less, neither bad or good. Just habits.

Once you finished, you reverted your attention back to him, then to the floor.

"No," Levi said, taking your chin between his fingers. "Look at me."

Sucking in your bottom lip, you narrowed your eyes, honing all your regard on him. He knew how hard it was for you to do this, and he loved it when you managed to for him. Catching you off guard, he placed butterfly pecks on your chocolate stained lips.

"Messy brat," he murmured, tracing the remains with the tip of his tongue.

You merely hummed in reply and leaned in for more.  
"Needy, huh?"

"Shut up," you grabbed his head and kissed him a little bit longer, earning a grunting in approval. "Mm, still drinking that black tea, are we?" you chuckled.

Again, he clicked his tongue. Causing you to yelp, he pressed you up against the wall.

"Damn it, just focus, will you?"


End file.
